


Melt me down into big black armour

by Bonymaloney (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Riding, Rough Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: Alfor and Coran test out their armour, each other.





	Melt me down into big black armour

Coran was a proud man, Alfor knew. Proud of his work, and his family name, and his moustache. His dress sense was... unique, and he took a lot of care with his appearance. It gave Alfor a lot to live up to. 

He made the armour the Altean colours of blue and white, with gold highlights for the connection to royalty, and then he added red details that were just for Coran. And a cape, that was essential. 

Nothing Alfor had pictured even came close to Coran’s reaction when he saw it. His jaw dropped, he had stars in his eyes and two spots of high colour appeared on his cheekbones. He ran his fingertips over the breastplate, the visor, the electric blue flash on the arm that marked the members of Team Voltron. Alfor had never seen him silent for such a long time before. 

When Alfor handed him the bayard he thought Coran would cry, and in fact he did turn away and make some awkward snuffling noises. Alfor placed his hands gently on his shoulder. 

“Would you like to try it out?”

He had one of the hangar bays where he carried out research and development sealed, and donned his own sword and armour. Coran swished his cape, and replaced his visor with a garish pair of sunglasses. He wielded his bayard, and it grew into a spear, like the one he carried on ceremonial occasions but with a larger, more colourful blade. Alfor was astonished and delighted at how quickly the bayard had synced with Coran’s emotions; it had taken some of the Paladins much longer to get to grips with. 

“It can also become a javelin that can bring down a shuttle.” He drew his sword, grinning. 

Coran grinned back and faced him, and the bayard became a long black staff. 

“I’m glad it has a non-lethal mode,” Coran said cheekily. “It means you have a chance, Sire.” The look on his face suggested he could hardly believe his own daring, and Alfor felt a surge of affection. 

“Is that how it is?” He mock-growled back at Coran, and took his stance. 

They started slow, Coran blocking and striking as they moved back and forth across the floor like steps in a dance. Coran looked good in his armour, light and graceful on his feet. He tried a few feints of his own as they began to move more rapidly, but Alfor parried then easily, the sword and the staff clashing together. Coran was trained in combat, but it was the regimented, repetitive style drilled into him by the space squad, whereas Alfor fancied himself quite a swashbuckler. He began to throw in a bit of flair, working up a sweat as he drove poor Coran across the floor, getting further and further inside his reach... until Coran suddenly dropped his staff, crouched down, and brought his shoulder up into Alfor’s belly, tackling him to the ground. His sword went sliding across the floor, and Coran straddled him, grinning in triumph. 

Coran was panting slightly, but his eyes never left Alfor’s. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing his eyes for a kiss, until their helmets came together with a crack and they were left red faced and laughing. 

Coran pulled his helmet off, his hair falling loose around his face, and Alfor reciprocated. Their kiss was deep and hungry, their blood still up from the fight. Coran’s lips were a little dry, but always so soft, and the contrast they made with the light scratch of his moustache was delicious and something Alfor could never get used to. He licked into Coran’s mouth, biting him softly and making him moan, and they only stopped to catch their breath, when by sudden, unspoken agreement Coran got to his feet and rapidly began removing his armour. He set each piece aside with delicate precision until he reached his undersuit, which he cast aside far less cautiously. Naked, he went to his knees, and reached gently to touch the clasp that held Alfor’s breastplate fastened. 

“May I?” He asked, eyes lowered, and Alfor could barely stammer out his assent. The automated armory he’d developed and installed was quick and efficient when it came to getting the Paladins in and out of action, but there was certainly something to be said for being undressed by a naked, reverent, very aroused Coran. 

Coran straddled him again and began to stroke their cocks together, his palms slick with fragrant oil he’d retrieved from - somewhere? Alfor was used to his loyal Advisor always having just what he needed on hand, and he lay back and simply allowed himself to enjoy the sensation.

“Can I...” Coran whispered eagerly, “...could I ride you, Alfor?” His name on Coran’s lips, instead of his titles, always filled Alfor with some nameless, complicated emotion, and he twined his fingers in Coran’s hair. 

“You can have whatever you want,” he murmured. “You won, after all.”

More oil, and Coran closed his eyes and shifted his balance, reaching behind himself. A little frown line appeared between his eyebrows and he moaned softly, and Alfor felt his cock twitch as he realised Coran was fingering himself, preparing himself. 

He took what seemed like a rather perfunctory amount of time, before rising onto his knees and lining himself up. As he began to sink down, Alfor felt the pressure and resistance before a sudden give, and a rush of heat as the head of his cock pushed inside. Coran yelped, and his face contorted in what had to be pain. 

“Isn’t that... don’t you...”

“Shh!” Coran’s eyes were wide. “Let me... let me have what I want.” He pushed further, moaning louder and louder until he finally settled flush against Alfor’s hips, flushed and sweaty and smiling beautifically. 

Alfor was overwhelmed by the tightness and the heat, the sensation of Coran’s muscles shivering as he struggled to adjust to Alfor inside him. The friction, and the heat, and by the stars the _sounds_ he was making...His fingers tightened on Alfor’s hips, and he went ever harder, panting and groaning as he thrust himself down. 

“Just there, that’s it, don’t stop!” he gasped out, and Alfor could only assume it was self-motivation, as he certainly wasn’t moving, was doing nothing more than drinking in the sight of Coran riding his cock, the way his thighs flexed and his shoulders tensed and little ripples of silver ran across his stripes... Noisy at the best of times, the sounds he was making were frankly obscene, and Alfor was relieved all over again that, for sound tactical reasons, he’d had the R&D bay soundproofed. 

Coran began to look confused, a sure sign that he was about to come, and his eyes suddenly shot open and held Alfor’s. Violet irises framed by orange lashes, the combination was so improbably beautiful that Alfor caught his breath. He braced his feet against the floor and thrust roughly, grabbing Coran’s hips to pull him down and hold him tight as he felt Coran clench around him, thick warm fluid spurting against his belly. A fierce rush of love surged through him, but it was mingled with fear as the feel of the cold hangar floor against his feet reminded him of where they were, what was happening in the universe outside. Coran was an engineer and his role in battles was rarely to fight, but when he did it was always close and bloody, no luxury of Lions for him. Alfor needed to keep him safe, so he had made him armour, because he was beautiful, he was beloved, he was...

“Mine,” Alfor gasped over and over, fingers twined in Coran’s hair, gripping his hip so tightly he left bruises and biting down on his shoulder as he came, Coran whimpering in his ear as Alfor slammed into his overstimulated body. 

They lay on the hangar floor. Coran was sticky and sweaty and utterly perfect. Alfor kissed the stripe under his left eye, gently brushing strands of hair away from his face. 

“Gorgeous man,” he whispered, and Coran beamed and hummed a few notes of his theme song in response. “I want you to think of this, every time you wear your armour.” 

“I think of this all the time anyway.” Alfor chuckled and rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Coran, cradling him from the hard floor, protective and possessive in equal measure. They couldn’t stay there forever, but one of the perks of being King was that they could stay there at least a little while longer.


End file.
